


remember me (as I was not as I am)

by lesbianpatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: @ pete, Angst, Be Careful What You Wish For, Crack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wishes, Wishing, chaptered fic, idk what to tag, kind of, watch me never update again, yikes angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6877648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianpatrick/pseuds/lesbianpatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick frowns. "Pete, what the fuck?"</p><p>Pete's head snaps up again, eyes wide, like he didn't expect Patrick to say his name. "You. You didn't...didn't forget. Oh my god."</p><p>He starts crying without warning, and Patrick instinctually pulls him in for a hug. "Whoa, whoa, hey. What's wrong? I didn't forget what?"</p><p>Pete buries his head in Patrick's neck and mutters, "Me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have like 3 chaptered fics going now o k
> 
> This idea came to me and I had to write it don't judge me
> 
> So...enjoy

It's 7 am and Patrick can't fathom why anyone is banging on his front door right now. 

He groans, gets out of bed, and makes his way downstairs to the door. Whoever is knocking that loudly must have bleeding knuckles by now. 

He opens the door, hoping there's not a serial killer behind it. 

There isn't. 

It's Pete. He's practically shaking, face tear-stained, and he's looking much too pale to be healthy. He looks almost insane, and Patrick is immediately worried. 

And there's this... _look_ in his eyes, and it's so weird, because it's not the usual look that Patrick's learned means "you're going to ask me why I'm here". This one means something like "you're going to ask me who I am", and that's scary. (People always say they can practically read each other's mind, and it feels like that sometimes.)

"What are you doing on my porch at seven in the morning?" Patrick asks, gaping at Pete's shaking form in the early morning light. 

Pete's face turns into something unreadable, but similar to defeat, and he looks down. When he speaks, his voice is shaking almost as badly as he is. "I don't. I don't know why I thought you'd...okay."

Patrick frowns. "Pete, what the fuck?"

Pete's head snaps up again, eyes wide, like he didn't expect Patrick to say his name. "You. You didn't...didn't forget. Oh my god."

He starts crying without warning, and Patrick instinctually pulls him in for a hug. "Whoa, whoa, hey. What's wrong? I didn't forget what?"

Pete buries his head in Patrick's neck and mutters, "Me."

Patrick is officially confused. "Pete, are you okay? Why would I forget you? You've been my best friend for practically half my life."

Pete sniffles a little and pulls out of the hug. "I...wait. How do you know me?"

Patrick is far past confused now. "Pete...what? You _know_ we've been in a band together for over a _decade_. Are you okay? Seriously."

Pete lets out a shaky sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god. You didn't forget. At all."

"Pete." Patrick has been saying Pete's name an awful lot in the past few minutes, he realizes. "Can you please tell me what all of this is about?"

Pete nods slowly, then speaks just as slowly. "I...I'm not even sure what's going on, but everyone...no one remembers me."

Patrick frowns. "Uh...that's kind of far-fetched. Are you sure you're not just tired?"

"No!" Pete insists, his voice laced with something like fear. (Patrick hates that.) "No, I...I was at Joe's last night, right? And when I woke up he was freaking out at me because _he didn't remember me_. And of course, he didn't know why I was in his house. I was so fucking scared, so I just ran out. I figured Joe had gotten amnesia or whatever, because I honestly wouldn't put it past him to do that, y'know?" Pete takes a deep breath. "So I went to Andy's and he asked me what I was doing there, and so I told him, and he said 'sorry, I'm confused, I don't know you.' And that was even scarier so I ran again and I ran through the streets for almost an hour and no one said 'hey, look, Pete Wentz!' and I actually hated it, imagine that, so I googled myself and nothing came up and I just..." Pete squeezes his eyes shut before finishing. "I came here. I had the smallest bit of hope that you of all people wouldn't forget me. And you didn't. I." He dissolves into tears again and collapses back into Patrick's arms. 

Patrick starts rubbing circles in Pete's back, because he knows that usually calms him down. "Shh. Okay. Okay, I believe you."

Pete doesn't stop crying. He starts talking between sobs. "Patrick, I don't exist. No one knows who I am, I just...oh my god." 

"You exist." Patrick says, pulling Pete into his arms a little further. "Pete, of course you exist. Just...people have forgotten you. We can try and figure out why, okay? Just calm down. Take a deep breath. You exist, okay? You're right here."

Pete nods against Patrick's neck, taking a deep breath and ceasing his tears. "Okay. Okay."

"Right. So." Patrick tries to think of what to say. This is crazy. "Did you anger a witch or something? Broke any mirrors? Made any weird wishes?"

"I didn't–wait." Pete's eyes widen and he jumps back from Patrick like he's been shocked. "I did. I did, oh my god. I'm an idiot."

"You did what? Anger a witch?" Patrick furrows his brow. 

"No!" Pete shakes his head. "Yesterday I kept bumping into fans everywhere and it was so annoying, I couldn't take it, and I said...I said I wished no one would recognize me on the streets, and, well..." His face falls again. "Well, no one will recognize me on the streets."

"Oh, _Pete_." Patrick sighs. "Okay. Right. We know what it is now. We can figure out how to fix it."

"Make another wish?" Pete suggests.

Patrick bites his lip. "Hm. I mean, I guess."

"Okay. I wish people would remember me again." Pete says. 

Patrick already knows that that idea didn't work. Pete must too, because he lets out a defeated sigh and looks like he's deflating. 

They stand there in silence for however long before Patrick speaks up. "Uh, you want to come in?"

Pete nods. "Okay."

Patrick gestures inside and Pete walks in, offering Patrick a weak smile. Patrick's heart hurts. Seeing Pete like this is terrible, and he really hadn't missed it. 

Pete has sat down on the couch, flicking through some random magazine. Patrick goes to sit with him. 

"Does anyone even know me, then?" Patrick asks, frowning. 

"Oh." Pete looks up. "I didn't even consider...this is confusing and possibly a paradox."

"It sure is." Patrick agrees, leaning back into the sinking couch cushions. 

They just sit for a while, processing everything. This is crazy. Maybe they're crazy. That wouldn't be something new. 

That's when Patrick gets a text. His phone tells him it's from Joe. 

_lol hi what's up_  
some creepy guy was in my house this morning? wtf haha  
how are you today 

"Well, I don't think I've been forgotten." Patrick sighs, showing the text to Pete. 

"Fucking great." Pete mutters, pushing back even further into the couch cushions than Patrick thought previously possible. 

Patrick instinctually leans against Pete's side. "Hey. It'll be okay. We'll find out how to make people remember."

"We will?" Pete asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow. 

"We will." Patrick promises. 

Pete seems to accept that. He leans further against Patrick's side. 

Patrick doesn't believe his own promise, though. 

He has no idea where to even start with this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler? Maybe. A possibly failed attempt at a cliffhanger? Yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got an overwhelming amount of positive feedback so I thought I'd write another chapter 
> 
> Here you go!
> 
> Enjoy!

They've figured out a few things. 

Patrick, apparently, has made it big time solo, even without Pete. The proof of this is in the numerous people who stop him on the street and ask for a picture or an autograph or even a piece of hair. 

Andy and Joe are apparently in a minor band together, though it isn't really taking off. 

And no records of Pete exist whatsoever. Not even a fucking _birth certificate_. They'd googled it. 

So now they're at Starbucks, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. 

Patrick nibbles at the overly-sweetened lemon pound cake he'd gotten. "I don't know. I don't get it."

Pete sighs and sips his iced latte. "I still don't get why you remember me. No one else seems to."

"Huh. Yeah." Patrick nods. It is a bit weird. 

"I checked all my social media, and it still exists, but anything I've ever posted is gone and I only have one follower on everything: you." Pete says, twirling his green plastic straw in the cup and causing the ice cubes to bump up against each other and make a nearly ear-piercing grinding noise. Patrick winces a little at it. 

"Huh. Not even your mom's Instagram she made to stalk you?" Patrick asks, taking another bite of lemon pound cake. 

"Oh no." Pete's eyes widen. "Oh no, that's impossible. She can't be..." He whips out his phone and dials a number as quickly as possible. Patrick watches as his face goes from concentration to fear to anger and back again. 

Someone must pick up, because Pete says, "Hello?"

Then his face falls. "Uh. It's Pete?"

A few seconds later he buries his face in his hands and mutters, "Sorry for bothering you, ma'am." Then he hangs up. 

Patrick gives him a worried look. "Pete? Who was that?"

"My mom." Pete mutters, looking up to meet Patrick's gaze. His eyes are filled with fear and look wet with tears again, which they don't really need in the middle of a crowded Starbucks. "Even she doesn't remember me."

"Oh, shit." Patrick breathes out. This has reached a whole new level of disturbing. 

"Why do you remember?" Pete repeats, but it has more meaning now than it did before. "How do you remember me when even my mom doesn't? You're the one person in the world who knows who I am."

Patrick sighs. "I don't know. I wish I did, really."

Pete makes an annoyed noise and sips the rest of his latte down to nothing, seeming to purposefully be making that annoying noise you make when you try to drink out of an empty iced coffee as loudly as possible. 

Patrick feels bad. Pete's family doesn't even remember him. Patrick knows it's not really his fault; they've established that it was Pete's. But he can't help feeling like it might, somehow, still be his. 

"This is fucked up." Pete mutters, tossing his cup aside and managing to land it neatly in a trash can about three feet from the table they're sitting at. 

"You can say that again." Patrick agrees, swallowing another chunk of the pound cake. He wonders if Starbucks understands the proper ratio of sugar to other ingredients at all. Probably not. 

"Alright. So basically, I practically don't exist to anyone except you and we're no closer to figuring out how to fix it." Pete says pointedly. 

"Uh...yeah. Sorry." Patrick mutters. 

"Not your fault." Pete shakes his head. Then he bites his lip. "Uh...hey, can we go back to your house? I kind of get the feeling that mine doesn't belong to me anymore."

"Oh! Yeah." Patrick nods, offering Pete a small smile. "Yeah, your place probably belongs to someone else. Of course you can stay over. I'll take the couch."

"Um, no. I'm taking the couch." Pete crosses his arms indignantly. 

"No, I'm pretty sure I am." Patrick replies pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "It's the polite thing to do."

"The polite thing to do is keep your own bed." Pete shoots back. 

They both narrow their eyes. 

~*~

In the end, neither of them sleep on the couch.

Patrick doesn't remember ever agreeing to _sharing his bed_ , but here they are. Pete has fallen asleep surprisingly quickly, and has managed to wrap his arms loosely around Patrick's waist in his sleep, which is really an amazing feat, considering that practically the entire bed was in between them just five minutes earlier. Patrick sighs. He's enjoying this a lot more than he'd ever admit. He pulls the comforter up a bit to cover his shoulders and closes his eyes. He can deal with everything in the morning. Sleep now. 

So he falls asleep. 

~*~

Patrick is woken up by his phone ringing. Pete is still asleep, arms tighter around Patrick's waist, and the ringing phone isn't phasing him whatsoever (when he sleeps, he sleeps _hard_ ), so Patrick reaches out and grabs his phone off the bedside table. 

"Hello?" He mutters into it, shaking the sleep out of his voice. 

"Okay, so, hi, something creepy happened." Joe's voice comes through from the other line. 

"Um, hi Joe. What's up?" Patrick says. He isn't sure how exactly his relationship with anyone is in this weird alternate universe or whatever; he assumes they're still friends, and he acts accordingly. 

"Remember how I texted you about the creepy guy in my house yesterday?" Joe asks. 

Patrick winces. He wants to yell at Joe, say that was Pete, but Joe doesn't remember Pete, so it's pointless. Instead, he settles for, "Uh, yeah?"

"Last night I had a dream about him. We were backstage at some theatre and I thought it was one of those dreams where I'm performing with some famous band, right? I get those a lot. So in my dream I just say hi to the bassist and then he turns around and it's the creepy guy. Isn't that weird?" Joe says almost impossibly quickly. 

Patrick's breath catches in his throat. He nearly drops his phone. "Uh. Yeah. That's. Really weird, huh."

"I know, right?" Joe replies. 

He may not know it exactly, and maybe it was just a dream, but _Joe remembers Pete_. 

"I gotta go!" Patrick practically yells into the phone, immediately hanging up on Joe (he'll apologize later.)

He needs to wake up Pete, because this is important. This is so, so important. 

_Joe remembers Pete._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and an overuse of italics. 
> 
> Or: Abby's commemorative guide to how not to end your fanfiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone really likes this and wants tons more, but there was only ever going to be three chapters anyway. It was meant to be a short thing. 
> 
> So here: the last chapter. The second update in a day. 
> 
> Yay me!
> 
> And I hate to flatter myself but I feel like the part of this where Patrick...well, I can't say, because that's spoiling, isn't it? But the super angsty part is probably my best writing ever, in my opinion. 
> 
> Thanks for all the positive feedback you've given this story. Thanks for saying it's original. 
> 
> And without further ado...enjoy.

"Pete. Pete. Wake the fuck up." Patrick hisses, pushing Pete's shoulder, which is a bit of a struggle because Pete's arms are still wrapped tightly around his waist. 

"Mm. Go away. Just five more...years." Pete mumbles, rolling over and releasing Patrick from his death grip. 

"Pete, seriously. It's important." Patrick says, pushing Pete in the shoulder again. 

Pete blinks his eyes open and yawns. "'S everything normal again?"

"Not...exactly." Patrick shakes his head, frowning. 

"Not exactly?" Pete asks. 

"Joe says he dreamed about you last night." Patrick elaborates. "Like, backstage at some venue. He said he thought it was just some weird dream, but...I think he still remembers. Subconsciously."

"Wait. Really?" Pete sits bolt upright, suddenly fully awake and interested. 

"Yes, really." Patrick nods. 

Pete grins lopsidedly, and shit, Patrick hasn't seen him smile since this all started. "Oh fuck yeah! That's good, right?"

Patrick shrugs. "Probably. I can call Andy and see if maybe he's remembered anything whatsoever. I'm guessing I still know him."

"Okay! Then we'll force everyone to come here and try to fix shit." Pete decides, still grinning at Patrick, and Patrick relishes in it. 

"Sounds good." He agrees, already pulling out his phone. 

~*~

Andy, it turns out, is Patrick's best friend, and definitely had a "weird dream involving some jerk who knocked on my door yesterday, it was weird". So Patrick asked if he could come over, and he agreed. Joe had gotten on board with that, probably mostly because Andy had. Neither of them knew Pete was going to be there. 

Pete is pacing back and forth across the living room carpet, frowning. "What if the dreams were just coincidence? What if it isn't getting better?"

"I promise you, it is. Pete, you've gotta trust me." Patrick sighs, setting down some worthless tabloid he didn't even remember buying but found on his table anyways. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Pete nods stiffly. 

The doorbell rings. 

Patrick runs to get it. When he opens the door, both Andy and Joe are standing there. Patrick smiles warmly at them. "Hey! Come in."

"Nice to see you." Andy says. Joe nods. 

The two walk in, and Joe freezes. "Whoa, hey! It's the creepy guy! The fuck is _he_ doing here?"

"Um..." Patrick gives Pete a nervous look. "That's my friend. I...don't think you guys know him."

It pains him to force those words out, because they should know Pete. They _should._

"No, it's the creepy guy!" Joe insists, pivoting to face Patrick. 

"Yeah, I've got to agree with Joe." Andy says, shrugging. 

"Rude." Pete mutters, sighing and sitting down on the couch. 

"His name's Pete, not 'the creepy guy'." Patrick says. He never expected to have to introduce Pete to Joe and Andy. This feels strange and wrong and _why._

"Um...okay?" Joe frowns. "If you say so, I guess?"

Patrick can't take it anymore. He can't go on without even trying. What harm could it do? "No! You should know him! Fuck, it's Pete! You...you've just forgotten! Joe, remember, you met him when...when..." 

Patrick's eyes widen. What the fuck. He can't finish that sentence because he _doesn't know_. He doesn't know how Joe met Pete, even though they've both told the story a million times. Fuck, he doesn't even know how _he_ met Pete.

"Patrick? Are you okay?" Pete asks, startling Patrick back to reality. 

"Fuck." Patrick answers. 

"I don't even know what you're talking about." Joe sighs. "Seriously. Are you feeling alright?"

"I don't know!" Patrick nearly screams. He can't help it. He's afraid. He should know. He should absolutely positively know, but fuck, he _can't remember._

"Don't know what?" Andy asks. 

"I don't. I don't know, fuck." He turns to Pete. "Pete, oh god, _I don't remember how I met you._ "

Pete's eyes widen, and he practically throws himself at Patrick, grabbing his shoulders desperately. "No! No, you've gotta remember! You're the only one I have, fuck, you...no!"

"I can't." Patrick whispers, and he can hear the fear in his own voice. Fuck, he can't even remember anything about working on Take This To Your Grave. He remembers the album well enough, but all the work that went into it is just...gone.

"I can't lose you." Pete whispers, eyes still wide, and then he dissolves into tears and falls forward into Patrick's arms. 

Patrick holds him tight. He can feel everything dissolving. He doesn't think he can remember 2005. There's something important there that he should know, he knows there is, some jarring event, but he's lost it. "Oh god, Pete. I'm losing everything. I can't...fuck."

Pete is still sobbing, shaking in Patrick's arms. "This is my fault. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Do you have any idea at all?" Joe asks Andy. 

Andy shrugs and says nothing. 

Patrick's losing it fast. He doesn't know why this is happening now, but it is. He can only remember up to the hiatus. Why was there a hiatus? Fuck if he can remember. "Pete...oh god, I can't forget you...but I _am_ , fuck."

Pete laughs, but tears are still pouring out of his eyes. "Hey. Hey, it'll be okay, I'll...I'll figure it out. For you."

"Okay. Okay. Pete." Patrick whispers. Maybe if he says Pete's name enough, he won't forget. 

It doesn't work. _He can't remember._

He's holding someone. He's holding _Pete_. Right. But hell, he doesn't know who the fuck Pete is. He should. He knows he should, but...no. 

"I don't know." He says softly, then his voice escalates. "Fuck, I don't know who you are! I should know! I should know!" Even then, he just pulls his arms tighter around Pete. Besides his name, all he knows of Pete is that he's _important_ to him. Maybe he's a friend. A best friend. Fuck, maybe even a boyfriend, he doesn't know. It's so painful to him because he knows he _should._

"Okay." Pete whispers. It's strained and choked out between sobs, but it's there. "Fine. I'll figure it out on my own. I. Okay." He pulls out of the hug, which takes effort, because Patrick still doesn't want to let go. 

"No!" Patrick screams. He can't let Pete go, he doesn't even remember him but _he can't let him go_. "No, I...fuck, you're important to me! I know you are! I just don't know how or why or..." This time it's him who collapses into Pete's arms. 

Pete seems surprised to suddenly have an armful of Patrick, but then he pulls him closer. "Okay. Okay. Shh. It'll be okay, I'll...fuck, I don't know."

Patrick is seriously considering that Pete might have been his boyfriend. 

"I want to remember you." He whispers into the fabric of Pete's shirt. 

Pete's breath audibly catches in his throat. He holds Patrick even tighter. "I want you to remember me too."

There's a moment of silence where they just stand there doing nothing. Then Pete whispers. "Fuck, I love you. But you don't even remember me."

Patrick's eyes widen in surprise, but Pete can't see that. So they probably are dating. Maybe. 

Patrick pulls out of the hug and looks into Pete's eyes. What he sees is so genuine and true that he can't help but say, "I may not remember you...but I think I love you too."

He means it. He really, truly means it because now he's sure it's true. He knows he does. He does. He can't remember it, but he _knows._

And then Pete kisses him. 

For a moment, nothing matters but this. They stay in the moment, because nothing else matters but this kiss. 

They really must be dating, Patrick thinks. 

No, wait. They aren't. They aren't because Patrick's been hiding his feelings for years, and-

_He's been hiding his feelings for years._

Patrick jumps back, startling Pete. He remembers. He remembers! He breaks into a grin. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I _remember_."

Pete breaks into a smile too, laughing hysterically. "Oh, fuck yes! Yes! I was so scared, I thought I'd lost you, I couldn't..." He inhales sharply. "Fuck, Patrick, I love you."

Patrick laughs. "I love you too."

"Damn, the internet's gonna be all over this one." Joe suddenly says. 

Andy groans. "Tell me you didn't."

"One picture on Instagram won't freak out the fangirls _that_ much." Joe shrugs. 

Patrick beams at them. They remember too!

Pete must get that too, because he turns to Patrick and they share an overjoyed look. 

"Joe's going to fuck up the fangirls." Andy announces. 

"Okay." Patrick says. For once, he doesn't care. He really doesn't care, because all that matters is that he still has Pete. 

Pete just shrugs, still grinning. 

Joe goes back to his phone and Andy starts trying to argue with him about "personal privacy, god, Joe" again. 

Patrick turns to Pete. "That was...crazy, and scary, and messed up, wow. But really, I promise you. I could _never_ forget you."

Pete rolls his eyes. "That is the single cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up." Patrick pushes him, and Pete responds by kissing him and muttering, "I missed you too."

Patrick grins, because it's true. 

He could never forget Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy af, as always :)
> 
> I hope you liked that. Feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xoxo Abby :)

**Author's Note:**

> if this gets enough positive feed back I'll likely continue bc I really like the idea ok


End file.
